The boy with a pale, pointed face
by cat in a basket
Summary: Harry Potter's first year at Hogwarts, as seen by Draco Malfoy.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This will hopefully be the first chapter in a story about Draco's first year at Hogwarts. _

_Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, or the situations, or the dialogue. I am not J.K Rowling :(_

The first time Draco Malfoy met Harry Potter was in Diagon Alley, in _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_ where they were both getting robes fitted for their first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Of course, had Draco known he was talking to the famous Boy Who Lived, he may well have acted differently, but as it was, he just didn't realise he was he was speaking with a living legend and acted rather condescendingly.

Draco arrived first. His father was in the book shop next door with his list of schoolbooks so it was his mother, Narcissa Malfoy who came with him into the robe shop, holding Draco's hand rather tightly. Poor Draco, he was eleven years old, and still his mother felt she had to hold his hand to keep him safe. As they came through the narrow doorway, Draco managed to wriggle his fingers out from those of his mother. She turned towards him with a rather hurt look on her face but Draco, ignoring this, simply hissed "_Not now mother!"_ and walked up to the counter.

"I need robes fitted for Hogwarts," he coolly informed the witch there, "How long is it likely to take?"

She looked him up and down "Oh, not long, we've got some robes about your size out the back."

Draco turned to his mother. "I'll meet you outside _Ollivanders_ in half an hour." She, looking rather subdued, nodded and left the shop in silence.

The witch led Draco to a footstool at the back of the shop, stood him up on it then slipped a long black robe over his head and started pinning it up to the appropriate length.

The bell over the shop door tinkled, and a squat, smiling witch dressed entirely in mauve bustled out from behind a curtained doorway to greet the new customer. Draco turned slightly to see who it was, but it wasn't anyone he knew. The new customer was a thin boy, with a thin face, messy black hair, wearing old clothes far too big for him. He looked somewhat overwhelmed by all the attention being given to him by the mauve witch. The boy opened his mouth to speak but she got in first.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she said, then, indicating Draco, she continued "Got the lot here – another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

The boy was given a stool next to Draco's, and, slipping a robe over his head, the mauve witch began to pin it up.

Draco looked at the other boy with a tinge of interest. They would be in the same year at Hogwarts. "Hullo," he said "Hogwarts too?"

The thin boy looked startled. "Yes."

"My father's next door buying my books and my mother's up the street looking at wands." continued Draco, "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

There was an awkward pause in the conversation.

"Have _you_ got your own broom?"

"No."

"Play Quidditch at all?

Now the thin boy looked confused. "No..."

"_I_ do – Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No."

Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Mmm..."

Draco looked around desperately, this conversation was going nowhere. The thin boy wasn't even trying to be sociable. His eye fell on something out the window.

"I say, look at that man!" Draco exclaimed, staring out at the large, hairy, giant of a man holding two ice-creams who was standing just outside the window.

The thin boy showed some interest. "That's Hagrid, he works at Hogwarts."

"Oh, I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

The thin boy looked a little annoyed. "He's the gamekeeper."

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of _savage_ – lives in a hut in the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic and ends up setting fire to his bed."

The thin boy now looked a little angry. "I think he's brilliant."

"_Do_ you?" Draco asked mockingly, getting ready to return with a scathing rebuke, but then he thought of something horrific. This boy, old clothes, doesn't know what Quidditch is, doesn't seem to know much about Hogwarts, has to be taken to do his shopping by the Hogwarts _gamekeeper_, could be possibly be – "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead."

"Oh, sorry," said Draco, still pushing for the answer to his unasked question, this boy couldn't be a, a – and _he_, Draco had been talking to him, he couldn't possibly be a – "But they were _our_ kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean."

Draco let out a breath. "I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, by the way?"

But before the thin boy could answer the mauve witch trilled out "That's you done, my dear," and, looking grateful, the thin boy hopped down off his stool.

Watching him pay for his robes, Draco thought that there was something a little _off_ about this boy, but he didn't quite know what. Of course, had he known it was Harry Potter he was conversing with he would have known exactly what was _off_ about the boy, but he didn't.

Draco's robes were finished soon, and, as he stood there watching the witch who had fitted him fold his robes and place them in a bag, his mind drifted away from his strange conversation with the thin boy, and back towards wands and racing brooms.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: I apologise for the end of the chapter, it gets a little too dramatic and clichéd. But the explanation needed to be there..._

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything, none of the characters, none of the places. Not even a wand._

Draco lay on his bed and thumbed through the latest _Nimbus_ catalogue. His day shopping in Diagon Alley hadn't been completely wasted, even if he hadn't managed to convince his father to buy him a racing broom. He'd got his mother onto that, and he could already hear her voice coming up the spiral staircase and through his bedroom door ..._Draco's not a little boy anymore, he's eleven, he's old enough, and responsible enough to have a new racing broom, and have you seen the state of his old one..._ He was sure his father would give in eventually.

He looked over at his new wand lying on his bedside table. A _wand. His_ wand. His first wand, and in a couple of weeks he would be heading off on the Hogwarts express, heading off to start his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His new robes, his _school_ robes were already hanging neatly in his wardrobe, and a pile of brand new, unused school books stood next to the new green and silver trunk in the corner of his room.

He was growing up; even his mother had to admit it. In fact, judging from how she was going on at his father, she _had_ admitted it at last.

Draco flipped through another couple of pages, but he wasn't really paying much attention to them. He was busy imagining himself at Hogwarts, walking into the Slytherin common room for the first time, surrounded by the people he had grown up with, Vincent, Greg, even Pansy Parkinson, who had started to get really annoying the last time her family had visited Malfoy Manor. He could picture the great hall in his head; his mother had described it to him so many times, and could imagine the great feast on the first night appearing on the four long tables.

He just couldn't wait.

Glancing over at the silver glass-faced clock hanging on his bedroom wall, Draco saw that the single hand was now pointing towards the word 'dinner'. Sighing, he tucked his catalogue onto the shelf beside his bed and walked towards his bedroom door. Once there, he stopped, and looked back at his wand lying there enticingly on the table. He'd have to get used to carrying it with him at all times, the way students did at Hogwarts. Grinning, he dashed back, snatched up the wand, and continued on out the door and down the stairs.

...

Draco's father, Lucius Malfoy, was sitting at the head of the table. Draco slid into his accustomed place opposite his mother, grinning at her as he did so. He _had_ been able to hear her nagging and wanted her to know he was grateful. Even glancing through the _Nimbus_ catalogue had made him so much more aware of all the amazing brooms out there that he was missing out on. There'd been one broom he'd seen in the window of _Quality Quidditch Supplies_ earlier today, it was said to be the fastest model yet. Just the mere thought of the _Nimbus Two Thousand_ made him drool. He hoped that it would be the broom he would get.

Draco's father clapped his hands and Dobby, the family house-elf staggered into the dining room carrying a silver dish almost as big as he was. Narcissa smiled at Draco, "I thought that, to celebrate the purchasing of your first wand, we'd have a 'Hogwarts' dinner. Just so you know what to expect once you get there."

Lucius smiled also, though in a more calculating sort of way, "And once we've eaten, Draco, I have a ...proposition I'd like to put to you." Draco looked nervously towards his mother, but she smiled encouragingly, so looking back towards his father he said "Thank you father." Smiling more naturally, Lucius then leaned forward and whipped the cover off the enormous silver dish saying as he did so, "Now, shall we eat?"

...

After dinner Draco felt as if he had eaten a whole horse. There had been so much food, roast beef, roast chicken, roast potatoes, roast apples, lamb chops, pork chops, sausages, salads... If that was what he was to expect at Hogwarts it would be a wonder if his new robes still fit by the end of the first term.

He looked towards his father "You wanted to speak to me father?" Lucius leaned towards him "I did, would you care to join me in my study?" then, seeing the look on Draco's face, he added "Don't worry, you're not in trouble, indeed, quite the opposite, in fact..."

Smiling smugly, Draco followed his father out of the dining room and into Lucius's office where they sat down, facing each other across the big, oak desk.

"Now Draco," started Lucius, "I know this is a lot to entrust to an eleven year old, but you must hear me out. I'm sure you know of the event that happened ten years ago, when the Dark Lord was vanquished by a mere baby."

Draco nodded. He did know. It would be hard not to.

"Well, what you don't know is that we still have no idea how _The Boy Who Lived_ managed to survive while the Dark Lord was destroyed. But we have some theories. There are some of us who feel that this boy, this _Harry Potter_ could only have survived by being in possession of magic even stronger, even _darker_ than that used by the Dark Lord. There are some of us who feel that, should the boy possess the same ...sentiments as us, we should use him as a standard to rally around, to regain the power we lost all those years ago, to further the Dark Lord's noble cause. Unfortunately, Dumbledore has had the boy hidden away, so we have no idea of his feelings towards us, _or_ the cause. And that is where _you_ come in, Draco."

Draco, who had been listening to his father's story, his eyes growing wider with every word, seemed to shake himself "Me? What can I do?"

"We are very lucky to have you Draco. You also know how I am on the school board of Hogwarts?"

Draco nodded again.

"Well last week Dumbledore revealed to the board that this year, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will be blessed with the presence of _Harry Potter_ himself. He has turned eleven and is old enough to go to school. Just like you. Now do you see where you come in Draco?"

Once again, Draco nodded, "I think so."

Lucius smiled. "Your job Draco, is to get to know the Potter boy. Talk to him; find out if he is suitable for our needs. Get him to trust you, if possible. Dumbledore has kept him hidden from the wizarding community so he will have had little, if any, contact with wizards. You should find him on the train before others do, teach him about the houses, tell him about Slytherin, nudge him in the right direction. If he gets sorted into Slytherin house, well then, we will know that he is likely to be susceptible. We need this Draco. We grow tired of sucking up to muggle-lovers like that old fool Dumbledore. We need someone like Potter, someone who we can rally around, someone who will draw in more followers, and it will be your job to see whether he will be suitable for our needs. Can you do this? We need you Draco."

Draco looked up, his eyes seeming to shine. Suddenly all his fantasizing over racing brooms seemed very juvenile indeed. "I can do this – I will do this. Thank you father, thank you for your trust. I will do my best. I will not let you down."

Lucius Malfoy stood up and walked over to his son and stood looking down at him. "Draco. It is _I_ who should be thanking you."


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: This chapter is a lot longer than the previous ones, and I'm not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing :/_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or the any of the dialogue/characters/places etc. from the book..._

Narcissa was crying even before they got to Kings Cross. Though he would normally be embarrassed and be subtly begging her to stop, this time, Draco didn't care. He had bigger things to worry about. He had more important things to think about, he didn't care if he looked silly because his mother was crying. And anyway, she was allowed to cry, she wouldn't be seeing him till Christmas. _He _wouldn't see _her_ until Christmas...

But Draco would not cry, because he was off to Hogwarts today. Off to Hogwarts! This was what he had been waiting for since that trip to Diagon Alley, since _before_ that trip to Diagon Alley really, and, once at Hogwarts he had a special task to do. Something that his father trusted him to do. And he would do anything to please his father.

The car stopped outside Kings Cross Station, and the Malfoys stepped out. Narcissa was still crying, holding her face in a dark green embroidered handkerchief as if to try to hide her tears. Draco's green and silver trunk was placed on a trolley nearby, his father tipped the driver, and then they were off.

Draco, pushing his trolley, walked beside his mother as his father led the way through the crowds. Staying close behind, he could just hear the words Lucius was muttering under his breath, "...muggles, just strutting around as if they own the place..."

He thought this _was _a bit unfair on the muggles, they didn't know there were such things as witches and wizards so they didn't even know that they didn't actually own the place. They were such pitiable creatures really, having to make things with _electrickery_ instead of relying on their own magic. Which they didn't have. Which made wizards better, as Draco's father was so fond of telling him.

Ahead of him, Lucius slowed a little, and stepped back to walk between his wife and son. "The barrier is just up ahead, I'll go first Draco, to show you how it's done, then you, then Narcissa." Narcissa sniffed. Draco nodded. Lucius smiled fleetingly at his son, then strode forward towards the barrier between platforms nine and ten, where he stopped, leaned against the barrier, and slid through it nonchalantly.

Draco tightened his grip on the handle of the trolley. He hadn't been onto platform nine and three-quarters before. His father disliked muggle things, like trains, intensely, that car ride to the station had been a rare trip for Draco.

Narcissa pushed him forward. "Just do it."

Draco shifted his grip, then broke into a run, he was going to crash into the barrier, it was right in front of him, solid brick, he was going to crash... but then he was through the barrier, and on platform nine and three-quarters, and there was his father waiting for him. He heard the clatter of his mother's shoes behind him as she came through the barrier and went to stand beside his father.

She was smiling, still teary, but not as much as before.

They were one of the earlier families to arrive on the platform, as Lucius was making sure Draco would be in a prime position to meet the Potter boy before anyone else could get to him. Around them were familiar signs of the wizarding world, other families wearing long robes, students balancing cages with owls, or cats, on top of their trolleys. Draco couldn't help but grin; this was what he had been looking forward to for so long, finally here!

Lucius found a free compartment near the front of the train and helped Draco get his trunk onboard. When they go back out onto the platform Narcissa was talking with a rather thickset man, and a smaller, chubbier version of him. Seeing Draco and Lucius emerging from the carriage she waved them over.

Lucius shared a look with the man, then turned to Draco. "Why don't you help Vincent get his trunk onboard?"

Draco nodded and turned to his friend. "Come on, we've got a carriage right at the front."

They pushed the trolley over to the carriage door and manoeuvred the trunk, and a large covered birdcage, through it, setting them in the corner of the compartment next to Draco's trunk.

Draco looked over towards the window, out it he could see Lucius talking very intensely with Vincent's father. Narcissa was standing slightly off the side, studiously examining her fingernails. He got the feeling that his father had been trying to get rid of them so they could talk. He looked over at Vincent. No. His father had wanted Draco to get _Vincent_ away so they could talk. Vincent wouldn't know the things Draco knew, and Draco's father trusted Draco to do what was right.

He cleared his throat. "So what'd you do this summer Vincent? I didn't do much, didn't even get a new broom, but mother's working on it for me."

Vincent shrugged. "Not much. Got some robes. And an owl. His name's Phyllis."

Draco snorted. "_Phyllis_?"

Vincent nodded. "Yeah. I show you."

He moved over towards his luggage in the corner and pulled the cover off the birdcage. Inside was a very large, rather grumpy looking owl that seemed to sneer at the two boys. It stuck its neck out towards them and made a noise like a creaking door. "Nyeeeeah..."

Vincent stuck a hand into his pocket, pulled out an owl treat and poked it through the bars of the cage. "Phyllis always hungry."

Draco watched with fascination as the owl gulped up the treat. It didn't even have to break it up, it just swallowed the whole thing down.

Phyllis rattled the bars of the cage in a perfunctory way before settling down to stare at his owner. Vincent met the owls gaze, blinked, and draped the cover back over the cage. He reached into his other pocket, pulled out a Cauldron Cake and took a bite. "Don't like it when Phyllis watches me eat," he mumbled through his mouthful.

Draco grinned. Boy and owl had much in common. He looked out the window again. Through it, he could see another boy his age, and his father, approaching the train. "Hey, Greg's here!"

Vincent and Draco left the train, and went over to stand with their parents, joining Greg and his father who had only just got there. Lucius was looking annoyed and was no longer talking to Vincent's father. Draco winked at his father, then turned to his friend. "Hey Greg, do you want us to help you get your trunk on board? We've got a compartment right up the front of the train."

Greg nodded, and the three boys made as if to leave. As he turned, Draco saw his mother looking rather forlornly towards the three fathers who were already moving away slowly. "And mother, you should come and see Vincent's new owl!"

...

It was now 10.45, and Draco, leaning out the compartment window, still hadn't seen anyone who matched the Potter boy's description. His father had said he'd be thin, with black hair, glasses, and the famous lightening shaped scar on his forehead. The description was familiar, and Draco was sure he'd seen someone who fitted it, but he couldn't remember when.

Below him on the platform, Narcissa was weaving her way through the crowd towards him. She stopped under his window and smiled up at him. "Come on down, your father and I want to say goodbye properly."

Draco made his way out of the carriage and followed his mother over to where his father stood waiting. Lucius smiled at Narcissa, "I'll just borrow this young man for a second."

He led Draco over to stand behind one of the pillars that stood all the way down the platform. "Draco, you remember what we talked about?"

Draco nodded.

"Good. I know our plan was to get to Potter before he got on the train, but he blends in better than I'd thought he would. You must find him on the train. He won't know anyone on it yet, so he'll probably be in one of the compartments further down, and on his own. Be nice to him. And I'll talk to you tonight to find out how it went, so be by the fire in the Slytherin common room at midnight."

He stepped forward and hugged his son. "And I have no doubt that you'll get into Slytherin, son. No doubt at all. You have no idea how proud I am of you that you're doing this for us."

Draco hugged his father back. Moments like this one didn't happen often enough.

Together, they found their way back to where Narcissa stood. She was crying again, and ran to hug Draco. "You will write? You'll tell us what's happening at Hogwarts, who your teachers are? Oh, I hope you have a wonderful time Draco."

She took a step back and sniffed, "Look at you, all grown up. You don't need your mother crying over you. Go on, get back on that train, and I expect to get a letter telling me all about the sorting ceremony and the feast. Go on!"

Draco ran back to his compartment smiling. His father was proud of him, his mother was accepting that he was growing up, and the Hogwarts Express would be leaving any minute now! Life was good.

...

Back in the compartment Greg was poking Vincent's owl with his wand. It was staring back at him unimpressed. As Draco came through the door it squawked loudly, and Greg flinched backwards. It really was a menacing bird.

The train lurched and began to move away from the station. Greg, Vincent and Draco rushed to the open window and waved frantically at their parents as the train rushed away. Draco saw his mother running, trying to keep up with the train and ending up standing at the edge of the platform, still crying, but smiling as she waved. He was sad to be leaving her, but excited to be going to Hogwarts at last.

When the platform was out of sight, things soon settled down. It wasn't long before a smiling, dimpled woman came up to the compartment door with a trolley loaded with sweet things to eat. Both Vincent and Greg leapt up and loaded themselves down with food. Draco didn't bother; he knew he'd be able to get enough to eat off his two friends.

After about an hour, things were even quieter. Vincent and Greg had finished off their feast, and Draco was quietly teasing Phyllis with the last Liquorice Wand. He looked up when two identical red-haired boys and a boy with dreadlocks holding a box walked past. They were arguing rather loudly about something.

"...I tell you Lee, it was!"

"It couldn't have been, I know you two, you're making it up."

"No we're not! It was, it was really him."

"So you're telling me _Harry Potter_ is on the train and is chatting away with your brother? Come on, pull the other one..."

Draco sat up straight, allowing Phyllis to pull the Liquorice Wand from his unresponsive fingers. _Harry Potter _was on the train, and he hadn't found him yet. How could he have been so stupid as to forget the one thing his father had entrusted him to do! He turned to Vincent and Greg, "Come on, there's something we've got to do."

...

It wasn't hard to find the compartment Harry Potter was in, Lucius had been right in guessing that he would be in one of the compartments further down, but he was wrong when he'd said that Harry Potter would be alone. Looking through the window, Draco could see a tall, gangly red-haired boy talking enthusiastically about something, and, opposite him, was the thin, dark-haired boy that Draco had met in Madame Malkin's robe shop.

Draco gulped. That was why the boy had seemed so odd in the robe shop, it had been Harry Potter he'd been talking to! And Draco had the feeling he hadn't given a good impression. He looked back at Greg and Vincent, they both looked sulky, and annoyed that he'd dragged them away from their digesting. He sighed, slid open the compartment door, and walked in; looking at Harry Potter in what he thought was a friendly fashion.

"Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

Potter was looking past Draco, at something behind him. "Yes."

Draco turned to see what Potter was staring at and saw that Vincent and Greg had followed him in, and were standing to either side and slightly back of him, still looking grumpy. "Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle. And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

The red-haired boy coughed suddenly, as if to hide a snigger. Draco shot him a glare. "Think my name's funny, do you?" He took in the boy's appearance. "No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

He turned back towards Potter confident, after what his father had told him, that the boy would share their views.

"You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake Potter's, but the famous Boy Who Lived didn't move. He was staring at Draco with a faint look of disgust on his face.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks."

Draco's mind was whirling. Harry Potter wasn't showing any signs of sharing his fathers ...sentiments. In fact, he was appearing to be getting along very well with a _Weasley_, who were well known Muggle-lovers. This was not going well.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he said slowly, "Unless you're bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riff-raff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid and it'll rub off on you."

The red-haired boys face changed to match his hair and he and Potter stood up.

"Say that again,"

Draco looked them over. He knew Vincent and Greg were a lot bigger than these two. "Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?"

Potter gulped visibly. "Unless you get out now,"

Draco could see Vincent out of the corner of his eye, and knew that he and Greg would be getting annoyed with Potter and Weasley. His eye fell on the empty seat covered in food, maybe that was the way to go. "But we don't feel like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food, and you still seem to have some."

Inside, he cringed. That hadn't come out right.

Greg reached towards the seat, aiming to pick up a Chocolate Frog. Weasley leapt forward to stop him, but before he even touched Greg, Greg let out a horrible yell.

There was something grey and hairy hanging off Greg's hand, teeth sunk deep into his knuckle. Greg swung this creature round and round, howling, and, when he finally managed to get it to loosen its grip; it flew off and hit the window.

Greg led the rush to the door, followed by Vincent, and then Draco. As they left they nearly knocked over a girl with bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth, she stared, affronted, after them as they made their way back along the corridor.

The rest of the trip went by very quickly as Draco, though feeling awful for not managing to please his father, made sure Greg got his finger cleaned and healed by the trolley lady since rats, as they had decided the creature was, were not considered very clean.

It was getting dark when the train began to slow, and soon it stopped beside a tiny, damp platform. Draco wormed his way off the train and stood outside in the cold evening air, shivering slightly. The platform was packed, and he didn't know where to go. Behind him, Vincent tripped as he came off the train and fell onto Draco, knocking him into the huge hairy man in front of him. Hagrid, for it was he, turned around, helped Draco up, and continued down the platform, now calling loudly "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"

Draco, along with all the other first years, followed the huge man off the platform and down a narrow, steep path. They came around a bend and there, laid out in front of them, was a great, black lake, on the other side of the lake was a mountain with a castle perched on top of it, the lights in the many windows matching the stars for brilliance, the many towers and turrets reaching ever upwards.

This was Draco's first glimpse of Hogwarts and he gaped up at it, as did all his future classmates.

Hagrid directed the first years towards the fleet of small boats sitting close to the shore. Draco, Greg and Vincent climbed into one, and sat in silence as the boat carried them across the smooth lake, through a curtain of ivy in the cliff face, and along a dark tunnel. At the end of the tunnel was an underground harbour, where they clambered out of the boats, and Hagrid led them along a passage and onto the grass in front of the school. They followed him up a flight of stone steps and stopped in front of the vast front door, where Hagrid raised his fist and knocked three times.

They didn't have to wait. The door was opened at once, and standing there in emerald coloured robes was a stern witch with black hair.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you Hagrid, I will take them from here."

The first years crowded into the entrance hall after Professor McGonagall, and were shown into a small, empty chamber, where she started talking about the school and the houses they were to be Sorted into. Draco didn't pay much attention, he already knew which house he would be in, and he was busy looking around him. This was Hogwarts; this would be his school for the next seven years. He was finally here.

Professor McGonagall left the room to check whether the rest of the school was ready for them. She was back quite quickly. The first years lined up, then followed her back into the entrance hall, then through a pair of double doors and into the Great Hall.

The Great Hall was huge, it was vast. There were four long tables, all full of students looking towards the first years expectantly. Above them floated thousands of candles, and above the candles the ceiling was enchanted to show the sky above it. Behind the first years was another long table, at which all the teachers sat. To Draco, it was exactly like what his mother had been describing to him all those years, only bigger, better, and more real.

Professor McGonagall placed a stool in front of the first years, then, on top of the stool, she put an old, patched, frayed wizard's hat. The hat twitched, a crease near the brim opened, and the hat began to sing.

It sang of the different houses that the new students were about to be Sorted into, and when it was finished, the whole hall burst into applause.

Professor McGonagall stepped forward again. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted."

She looked down at the parchment roll she was holding and read off the first name. "Abbot, Hannah!"

Draco watched as a pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails made her way unsteadily towards the stool and put on the hat. He applauded when she was placed in "HUFFLEPUFF!", and watched as the next girl walked forward. He wasn't nervous, no, he was excited. He couldn't wait to have his name called, to go forward, have the hat put on his head and be placed in Slytherin. Perhaps it would make up for disappointing his father.

The excitement building in his belly made up for the dread he would feel at midnight when he spoke to Lucius.

The names were rolling on, Draco sniggered slightly as "Longbottom, Neville!" was at last placed in "GRYFFINDOR!", then, after "MacDougal, Morag!" went skipping off to join her house, he realised that the name Professor McGonagall had just called was "Malfoy, Draco!", his name.

Moving out of the crowd of first years, Draco walked up and sat on the stool. He would be in Slytherin, Slytherin was the house he would be in... He lowered the hat onto his head, and even before it was properly settled it was shouting "SLYTHERIN!" for all the school to hear!

Full of pride, Draco removed the hat, and moved to sit at the Slytherin table beside Vincent and Greg, who he hadn't even noticed being Sorted. He must have been too caught up in the whole excitement of the ceremony to have heard their names being called out.

Grinning, he watched the rest of the sorting, clapping energetically when "Parkinson, Pansy!" was made a Slytherin. And then Professor McGonagall called out a name that he had been waiting for since the ceremony began. "Potter, Harry!"

Draco watched as Potter sat on the stool and draped the hat over his head. If, _if_ he was put in Slytherin his father would still be happy. Even if Potter hated Draco it wouldn't matter if he was in Slytherin. He just had to, _had to_, be a Slytherin. Draco watched as the hat twitched, as the crease near the brim that looked suspiciously like a mouth opened and bellowed out a word that was heart-rending to poor Draco.

"GRYFFINDOR!"


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: I'm not sure if this chapter would qualify as melodrama or not... Oh well._

_Reviews are always helpful..._

_Disclaimer: However much I'd like to, I do not own Harry Potter. Or Draco or Lucius or the Slytherin Common Room. _

It was night time, and Draco was the only one in Slytherin house still awake. His fellow first years were all in their beds sleeping off the feast, but Draco was not in his dormitory. Draco was downstairs in the Slytherin common room waiting anxiously for his father to appear.

He didn't know how his father would take his failure. This had been the first time that Lucius had trusted Draco with anything important and he had blown it. And it was nearing midnight, and any minute now Draco would have to tell his father of how everything had gone wrong.

He was not looking forward to it.

Outside the common room, the lake lapped gently on the windows, creating the soothing sound that had lulled the other members of Draco's house to sleep. To Draco however, the noise seemed to be counting out the seconds till his father confronted him regarding his failure. And he had seen things _moving_ out in the dark lake water, things that he hoped were not the giant squid.

He slouched further down on the green and black leather sofa he was sitting on. Maybe he could just leave. Maybe, maybe he could pretend he had forgotten, that the train ride and the feast had tired him out and he had fallen asleep whilst waiting for the others in his dormitory to fall asleep. That way he could put off confessing to his father. That way, he could again try to gain Potter's friendship...

Before he could move, however, the fire that had been dwindling in the grate suddenly sparked green, and Lucius's head appeared amongst the coals.

Draco flinched back. He hadn't expected his father to arrive so suddenly.

Lucius looked up at his son, and frowned. The boy had flinched when he had appeared, which, to his mind, was not a good sign. "So Draco, did you find the Potter boy?"

Draco swallowed. "Yes. And, well, I've met him before..."

Lucius leaned forward as much as a disembodied head floating in a fireplace could. "Really?"

"Y-yes. At Madam Malkins. He was getting robes. We talked. About Hogwarts and Slytherin, I think."

Lucius smiled. "That sounds good."

"I'm not sure it was."

"So have you done what I asked you to do?"

Draco nodded. "Yes, well, yes. I have, I mean, I've tried but-"

Lucius cut Draco off. "You've _tried_, have you? Did I not make myself clear on how important this is to us?"

Draco squirmed. "Yes father, you did. You did tell me how important it was to you, to us, but it really wasn't my fault. He already knew someone! They were sitting together, and laughing, and, and, he wouldn't listen to anything I said!"

Lucius sneered. "What happened?"

Draco recounted the conversation, telling his father of the disgust he had seen in Potter's eyes, the way he had been ready to fight Draco, and of the rat that had bitten Greg's finger. Lucius listened intently.

"Who was the one sitting with him?"

"A Weasley."

"A Weasley? A Weasley! Those muggle-lovers are just the type of people we were hoping to get Potter away from! And you left them alone together because a _rat_ bit your friend! I thought you knew what this meant to us, but it looks like you were just playing. A _rat, _really! And from what you've said, it sounds like you weren't really trying to convince him. 'You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort.' I thought at least you'd try to talk to him alone, explain who we are and what we're trying to achieve."

By now, Draco was fuming. He'd tried to tell his father how hard it had been, but whenever he tried to explain himself it had just sounded as if he'd been whining.

"I've told you! It was hard, he already knew someone, and he didn't like me! Of course I took a subtle approach, I mean, what would he have thought if I'd just gone up there and told him what we were really after? 'Hello, my name is Draco Malfoy. My parents work for the man who killed your parents, do you want to be my friend?' How stupid does that sound!"

Lucius's face froze, and when he spoke his voice was icy. "Draco... I _don't need this_. Just be quiet and let me think."

Draco wilted. He was scum, he was worthless, he had failed at the one important thing he'd ever been asked to do, and his father's head in the fire was scowling at him. His mind was running in wild circles, and then, suddenly, he really, _really_ hated Harry Potter.

Lucius was talking to himself. "From what Draco says it sounds as if the boy was ever unsuitable for our cause... He may now turn out like his precious _martyred_ parents, especially with Dumbledore around... What we need now is to – Draco!"

Draco's head snapped back up.

"He will not join us. It seems as if he is already Dumbledore's man, so now I have a different task for you. You must discredit him. Secretly, if possible. Get him in trouble, broadcast it to as many people as possible what their famous Harry Potter has done. Make teachers, students, everyone think little of him. If he cannot be our rallying point then we must at least stop him from becoming someone else's."

He paused.

"Can you at least do this?"

Draco tries to ignore the sneering tone to his father's voice and instead focused on the words. This was a chance to get back at Potter, and he wouldn't even have to worry about his father disapproving if he himself got into trouble. He smiled. "Yes. I can 'at least' do this."


End file.
